Suddenly
by Italian Hobbit
Summary: It started with a headache, but then it got worse - much worse, and no one knows what's wrong with Fíli. No slash.


_**A/N: This is your warning. You have been warned. Continue at your own risk.  
**_

* * *

"Fíli, wake up."

Kíli shook his brother's shoulder impatiently, but Fíli remained stubbornly—and typically—asleep. Kíli rolled his eyes. Fíli was so _lazy_ in the morning...

"_Fíli!_" he shouted close to Fíli's ear. "Come on. We have chores to do. Get up."

Finally, Fíli opened his eyes and glared up at the brunet leaning over him. He blinked his foggy blue eyes slowly and said nothing.

"Get _up_," Kíli pressed, pulling on Fíli's arm as the blond tried to shove his face further into his pillow. A muffled sound came from underneath the unruly mop of golden hair, and Kíli leaned down to listen.

"Say that again?" he said.

Fíli lifted his head a fraction of an inch, just high enough for Kíli to hear him.

"Leave me alone," he muttered. "I have a headache."

"All the more reason to get up and get working," Kíli said. "Get up and I'll get you some water. The fresh air'll be good for you."

Fíli groaned and dropped his head into the pillow; Kíli hopped off the bed and left the room, leaving Fíli to pull himself out of bed. Kíli was a quick and easy riser, but Fíli needed a few minutes to put his head together after he woke up before he could even think about getting up. He would get there eventually. The younger brother busied himself with getting a glass of water and carried it in to Fíli, who had made it as far as the edge of the bed, where he sat with his head in his hands. Kíli's furrowed his brow and set the glass on the bedside table.

"You all right?" he said.

"No," Fíli grunted. He pressed the heels of his hands against his eyelids. "It's worse now."

"Worse than a minute ago?"

"Worse than yesterday," Fíli replied. He looked up sheepishly at Kíli. "It's been growing since yesterday morning."

Kíli wavered where he stood, unsure if he should sit beside his brother and throw an arm around him or go look for someone who could offer a remedy. After a moment or two of silence, he said, "Do you want me to get you anything? Anyone?"

"I just want to sleep at the moment," Fíli said, dropping his head back into his hands. "I feel dreadful."

Kíli was silent again. He wanted to let Fíli rest, but the more selfish part of him did not want to do chores alone. His mouth twisted as he watched Fíli's fingers curl into his hair and his shoulders sag even lower than before. His compassion won out, and he sighed begrudgingly.

"I'll do the chores by myself," he said. "You go back to sleep."

Fíli looked up, his eyebrows raised. "You're sure?" he said; his voice was hopeful, though, and Kíli knew he was only asking to be polite. He smiled.

"Sleep," he said. "I'll be back later."

"Thank you," Fíli said earnestly, and he immediately lay back down and drew the covers over himself, his face hidden in his pillow.

* * *

Kíli returned in the late afternoon, exhausted. He had tried to convince Gimli to help him with his chores, but his young cousin already had his own, and Kíli had been left alone to do twice the work. Several times he had selfishly wished that he had made Fíli come with him anyway, but he couldn't be angry with his brother. It wasn't Fíli's fault that he had a headache.

"Anyone home?" Kíli called out to the empty kitchen, but no one responded. So Thorin and Dís were not home, at least. He sauntered into the bedroom to see if Fíli was still asleep and found his brother curled up in bed, his hands clutching his head. He frowned.

"Fíli, are you awake?" he said softly, and Fíli stirred and looked up with heavy-lidded eyes.

"Kíli," Fíli said softly. "Y-you're... you are... back." There was something _odd_ about the way he spoke; his lips didn't seem to move correctly, as if they had forgotten how to form words. This was enough to cause concern, but what struck fear into Kíli's heart was the look in Fíli's eyes. Though they were only half-open, there was a strange look shining there that Kíli had never seen before. He rushed forward and sat down on the edge of the bed; Fíli looked up at him as he leaned forward, studying his older brother's face.

"Fíli, what's happened?" he said.

"I don't... don't know," Fíli said. His words slurred together. "My h-head..." He trailed off and closed his eyes. His head lolled when he tried to move it, and Kíli laid a hand on his shoulder.

"Does it hurt still?" he said.

Much to Kíli's surprise and dismay, Fíli let out a sob and nodded; suddenly tears began to roll down his cheeks as tearful gasps fought to escape him. Kíli blinked. Fíli didn't _cry_ over pain. He gritted his teeth and bore it, like any proper dwarf would. Though greatly alarmed, Kíli pulled his brother up into a hug, and Fíli's head dropped onto Kíli's shoulder as the blond whimpered pathetically into his brother's dark hair. Kíli stroked his Fíli's back awkwardly, his mind racing. Should he get Thorin? Óin would typically take care of anyone who was unwell, but he was away for the day; a dwarrowdam in a neighboring village was in labor, and his skill had been called upon. Kíli cursed their luck. Of course it would be today that their apothecary cousin was away.

"Easy," he said. "It's all right."

"It hurts," Fíli whimpered. "I-it won't stop, I can't—can't sleep, can't think..."

Kíli thought quickly. "Mum's not home, but I know where she keeps her herbs," he said. "It's not as strong as what Óin's got, but I know she's got something for sleep..."

Fíli gripped Kíli tightly. "Please, a-anything—please."

"All right," Kíli said. He made a motion to pull away, but Fíli still held him fast. He cleared his throat.

"Fee, you've got to let go," he said gently. Fíli's fingers loosened from his tunic, and Kíli pulled back. Fíli lay down with a shuddering breath, folding his arms across his chest and squeezing his eyes shut. With a last glance at his brother, Kíli stepped out of the room; he left the door open so he could keep an eye on him, but he turned his attention to the cabinet over the sink where his mother kept her herbs.

"Valerian root," he muttered, searching for the pungent herb. It stank, but Kíli remembered his mother saying that it not only helped one sleep, but it could treat headaches, too —even severe ones. He found it near the back and pulled it out. The smell overtook his nostrils and made him wrinkle his nose, but he refused to be put off. He could still hear Fíli whimpering, and it made him squirm with unease.

Soon he had prepared a foul-smelling tea, and he carried it into the bedroom, taking care not to spill any. He sat down on the bed and waited for Fíli to react. The blond remained still, his long hair cast over his face. For a moment Kíli panicked, suddenly filled with an irrational fear that his brother was dead, and he called his name out sharply. When Fíli looked up, Kíli breathed a sigh of relief.

"I made you something for your head," he said. "It probably won't taste very good, but it's the best thing I know of for now."

"I'll take anything," Fíli said wearily. He sat up, but as soon as he was upright he gritted his teeth and brought a hand up to his forehead, his eyebrows drawn apart as a tearful gasp left him. Kíli pushed the mug into his brother's hand.

"Drink," he prompted. "You'll feel better."

Fíli nodded and drank. He grimaced at the unpleasant odor and taste, but he drank it quickly, like a parched traveler who finds cold, clean water. Kíli watched apprehensively and willed the tea to work as quickly as possible for his brother's sake. When Fíli had finished he took the mug and set it down on the bedside table; his eyes never left Fíli's face, which was drawn in pain and weariness.

Fíli made to lie down, but he doubled over instead, and Kíli caught him around the middle and pulled him back up. Fíli dropped his head onto his brother's chest with a sob; Kíli started and raised his eyebrows, but nonetheless he wrapped his arms around him and remained silent. He was not used to being the comfort for his brother, but he was determined not to let him down. Frustrated tears rolled down Fíli's face until the herb took effect and he drifted off to sleep, and then Kíli laid his brother down and pulled the covers over his still frame.

For some reason, Kíli's heart was pounding.

* * *

At dinner, Kíli was silent.

"You're unusually quiet, Kíli," Thorin remarked over a mouthful of meat.

Kíli couldn't think of anything to say, so he shrugged.

"Fíli will be fine," Dís said, reading her son as easily as ever. "Sometimes people get bad headaches like that. It's unpleasant and frustrating, but he'll pull through, love."

What was Kíli supposed to say to that? He supposed his mother was right, but it didn't _feel_ right. He could still hear Fíli's whimpers and slurred speech in his head, and the look that shone in his blue eyes. His gaze drifted to the closed bedroom door.

"Eat," Dís said, but at the same time, a loud _thump_ came from the other side of that closed door.

Kíli was on his feet in a flash. He ran to the bedroom door and threw it open; Fíli lay crumpled on the floor, and Kíli dropped to his knees beside him.

"Fíli!" he cried, bending down to look into his brother's face. He pushed golden hair out of the way and willed Fíli to meet his eye. Slowly Fíli's gaze turned to meet his with that same strange look. Kíli swallowed.

"D-dizzy," Fíli said slowly. "I... was just d-diz-zy, is all."

"Can you get up?" Kíli said. He didn't wait for a reply before he started pulling Fíli up; his brother flopped uselessly in his arms.

"'M fine," Fíli mumbled. Kíli turned to look at the doorway, where Dís and Thorin had congregated. Thorin stepped forward and helped Kíli lift the blond back onto the bed, and Fíli let them do as they wished. The old dwarf put a hand on his elder nephew's forehead.

"He doesn't have a temperature," he said.

"Does your head still hurt?" Kíli said.

Fíli made a sound in his throat and shook his head, his hand roving about until it found Kíli's. He squeezed, and Kíli squeezed back, offering his brother a small smile.

"I don't think it's just a headache," he said to his mother and his uncle. "Something is wrong. Look at him."

"I'll see if Óin has returned yet," Thorin muttered. He rose and left quickly, leaving the front door to slam behind him. Fíli still squeezed Kíli's hand.

* * *

In the short time between Thorin's departure and his return, Fíli had regressed dramatically. His eyes roved aimlessly and he spoke little; when he did speak, his words were almost unintelligible. The strange look had dissolved into fear as he got worse, and Dís and Kíli sat on the bed with him to keep him company. One thing remained the same: Fíli would not let go of Kíli's hand.

Kíli could tell that Fíli was panicking. Though he didn't say much, it was not hard to pick up on the signals. At one point, Fíli tired of lying in bed and wanted to move around; he pulled himself up and swung his legs over the side before Kíli could stop him.

"Fíli, where are you going?" Kíli demanded. He and Dís rose quickly. Fíli pushed up to his feet and wavered for a moment, but he managed to stay standing. Slowly he took a step, and Kíli and Dís held out their hands, ready to catch him if he fell.

"I wan-wanna walk," Fíli drawled. "I don't wan-na l-lay dow-wn anymore."

"Fíli, be careful," Dís said, reaching out hesitantly. Fíli took another step, but that was as far as he got; his legs buckled beneath him, and Kíli caught him clumsily and slowly lowered him to the ground. Fíli's breathing was harsh, and his hands found the collar of Kíli's shirt. His eyes were shining.

"W-what's hap-happening to me?" he said hoarsely, searching Kíli's eyes for answers. Kíli stared back into those blue eyes, completely at a loss for words. He looked up at Dís, who was standing over them with her hand covering her mouth and her eyes wide. He turned his gaze back to Fíli.

"I don't know, Fee," he said. "Come, back to the bed. Please."

Fíli bowed his head, breathing raggedly, but he allowed Kíli to pull him back up and help him back to the bed. He put his hand in his brother's, and Kíli squeezed it reassuringly. As they helped him get comfortable, they heard the front door open and slam shut.

"Óin is still gone," Thorin said breathlessly as he entered the room. He looked over his elder nephew and joined his family on the bed, worry radiating from his tense figure. He passed a hand over Fíli's brow and took his unoccupied hand.

"What's happening to him?" Kíli said thickly. Thorin shook his head, his eyes trained on Fíli's face.

"I don't know," he said. "Fíli—can you tell us what's going on?"

Fíli made some slurred sounds that did not form words. His brow creased in frustration, and he tried again, but once again he failed. He breathed in sharply and let out a short wail, and then he began to cry for the second time that day.

For Kíli, the rest of the world ceased to exist in that moment. His mother and his uncle melted from his view, and only Fíli remained. He bent down and gathered his brother up in his arms, and Fíli pressed into him; his sobs were muffled by Kíli's shirt, and Kíli held him tightly. The sky could fall, and Kíli wouldn't let go. Not while his brother needed him.

* * *

Fíli forgot how to speak.

Thorin had left to wait at Óin's home until he returned; Dís had spent most of the evening in Fíli and Kíli's room and had only just turned in for the night.

"Come get me if…" she had said.

Fíli had forgotten just about everything. He only seemed to be aware of his surroundings half the time, and Kíli almost wished that he wasn't aware at all. When he was alert, he just became more and more frustrated as he struggled to speak and failed. He could barely move on his own, save for wild, barely-controlled motions. Kíli sat at the head of the bed and pulled his brother up so that his head rested on his chest; their legs tangled together and Fíli would not let go of Kíli's hand for anything at all.

Late that night, Fíli fell asleep. His head drifted downwards and his mouth hung open, but Kíli didn't care. He was simply glad to be near him and to be able to be a comfort for him, even though he didn't quite know what to do. He cried then. Fat drops dripped from his cheeks into the sea of gold under his chin, and he fought hard to be silent, lest he wake his brother. He wished he could turn to Fíli, but it was Fíli's time to turn to him.

Thorin returned with a weary Óin in the wee hours of the morning. Kíli awoke to the heavy sounds of boots hitting the floor in his bedroom and instinctively hugged his slumbering brother to himself. When he saw his cousin, he nearly let out a shout.

"Wake him up," Óin said. Kíli shook Fíli to wake him, but it took several minutes to pull him from his slumber. Finally Fíli was able to open his eyes, and he rested them on his cousin momentarily before they led themselves elsewhere. Óin examined his patient quickly but thoroughly, working around the intertwined siblings with grace. First he checked Fíli's eyes, but whatever he was looking for, he didn't find. Then he checked the blond's reflexes, which were sluggish at best. The corners of his mouth pulled into a deeply concerned frown.

"Fíli, look at me," he said.

Fíli blinked slowly and dragged his eyes to Óin's face.

"Can you tell us what is going on?" said Óin. "Speak or sign; it's up to you."

Fíli's mouth pulled into a frown and his lower lip trembled. His eyes shone with unshed tears, and the only communication he could muster was a shake of his head.

"Maybe you can write?" Óin prompted. "Can you remember how to write?"

Fíli looked helplessly from Óin to Kíli, his brow furrowed in confusion. Kíli looked up to his old cousin and spoke for his brother.

"He can't remember how to talk," he said, choking on the end of his sentence. "I don't think—I don't think he knows why any more than we do."

Fíli closed his eyes and rested his head on his little brother's chest. His hand tightened in Kíli's.

"Can he understand us?" Óin said, addressing Kíli instead of his brother.

"I think so… I'm not quite sure," Kíli said. "I think he at least remembers who he is."

"Fíli," Óin called, setting a hand on the blond's shoulder. Fíli slowly opened his eyes again, and a small, triumphant smile crossed Óin's face.

"You know who I am, don't you?" he said gently.

Fíli's glance flickered from Óin's eyes to his lips, and his brow furrowed. A frustrated noise escaped his throat, and his breathing quickened; he whimpered and pressed into Kíli, who wrapped an arm around him, his heart sinking.

"It's all right, Fíli," he said, though he knew it wasn't. He didn't even know if Fíli could understand him at this point. "Quiet. It's all right."

"What's wrong with him?" said Thorin anxiously.

"I don't know," Óin said finally. "It's like his mind suddenly lost everything." For a minute, he said nothing, and no one pressed him. Finally he passed a hand over his eyes and then looked up at Kíli, his eyes resigned and grieved. "You will want to stay with him."

All Kíli could manage was a small nod. Óin leaned forward and rested a hand on Fíli's brow; then he excused himself hastily, leaving Thorin and Kíli alone with Fíli.

Their eyes met, but only for a moment. It was all they could stand.

* * *

Fíli wouldn't wake up, no matter what Kíli did. He was alive, but he just simply wouldn't wake.

Thorin and Dís both came in and out often, checking on Fíli and bringing food and drink for Kíli. Sometimes one or both of them would sit for a while; no one said anything. There was nothing left to say. Thorin would take Fíli's other hand, and Kíli would try not to watch as Thorin attempted to hold back tears. Dís would hum and stroke Fíli's golden hair, fixing a tangle here, straightening a braid there, as silent tears trickled down her face. But Kíli would not leave Fíli. He sat and held him close and willed him _please get better, please, please let this pass, please don't leave me_, but he knew that Fíli wasn't listening. He couldn't listen.

Fíli woke up the next morning.

Upon seeing Fíli's eyes open, Kíli's heart leapt. He smiled from ear to ear and brushed a stray blond hair out of his brother's face.

"Hey," he said with a fluttering heart. He tried to say more, but the lump in his throat stopped him.

"K-Kíli," Fíli said. Kíli looked down into his brother's adoring blue eyes. Nothing else in the entire world mattered except Fíli at that moment – nothing else existed. Just Fíli.

"What?" he said. Fíli smiled softly.

"Kíli," he said again, and then he closed his eyes and fell back asleep.

Kíli bit his lip and stared, his heart completely rent. A deep groan resonated from his chest; he hugged his brother tightly and squeezed his eyes shut.

* * *

Kíli awoke suddenly with a gasp. He had fallen asleep—when had that happened? He cursed himself for his lack of vigilance and lifted his head off Fíli's golden hair. He looked down at his brother, whose head rested unmoving—unmoving—on his chest. A weight dropped in his stomach.

"Fíli," he whispered, jostling his brother gently, but Fíli remained asleep.

"_Fíli_," he said again, louder this time. He took hold of his brother's shoulder and shook hard, but still Fíli remained motionless.

"Wake up," he said with a cracking voice. He waited. Fíli always took a while to wake up. He waited and waited, calling his brother's name again, shaking him once or twice. Still Fíli remained stubbornly asleep, one hand caught in the fabric of Kíli's shirt, the other with fingers entwined into Kíli's own.

"_Oh_," Kíli said finally.

It was a short, quiet breath of air, barely a word. But it was more than a word, too. It meant nothing and everything all at once.

He pulled Fíli's golden head off his chest and held his face in his hands and leaned forward until their temples touched. For a moment, he smiled—but only for a moment.

Then Kíli cried.

* * *

_**I've had a lot people ask and I'm tired of answering because it makes me want to cry every time, so I'm just going to go ahead and say this. Yes, Fíli is dead. He had a brain aneurysm. **_

_**Sorry, I'm a terrible person.**_


End file.
